


Hawkdevil

by IsThatABillyClubInYourPocket



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsThatABillyClubInYourPocket/pseuds/IsThatABillyClubInYourPocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of my short Clint/Matt drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A memorable first meeting

Matt was expecting a hard fight. Pain, broken bones, and a few gunshot wounds to say the least. When an Avenger gets stuck in a warehouse full of gunmen, and the police have the building surrounded but refuse to go in, well, jumping into  _that_  situation isn’t exactly going to be good for your health.

And yet, here he was: standing in the middle of a crowd of unconscious goons while a freaking  _Avenger_  stood right in front of him wearing nothing but combat boots, sunglasses, and an empty arrow quiver.

Matt had heroically crashed through the warehouse window, landed pretty damn flawlessly in front of the only upright body in the place, pulled back in preparation for a damn solid punch, and came to a screeching halt when he realized the man in front of him was Hawkeye.

Hawkeye nodded to Matt, as if they were two strangers that made eye contact at a subway station, then turned around and bent over one of the knocked-out thugs.

One of the downsides to having radar senses: they don’t turn off when you close your eyes. Matt was getting all the contours of Hawkeye’s impressively curved backside, whether he liked it or not.

“So,” Matt started awkwardly. “Looks like you don’t need much help here?”

“Nah, I got it handled,” Hawkeye replied, rolling over the guy and pulling off his suit jacket. “Why do these goons always wear suits? That’s not even practical. I hate suits.”

“I think the better question is why are you stealing that guy’s suit? Or where is  _your_  suit?”

Hawkeye shrugged as he pulled off the guy’s shoes and tugged off the trousers.

“There was a little mishap with a napalm arrow.”

Matt would have smiled if he was too focused on  _not_  focusing. Radar senses are hard to ignore when you’ve been honing them since you were nine. Hawkeye paused, looking over at Matt. He stood up, placing his hands on his hips and going full-frontal.

“Are you staring at my nether-regions?”

“Nobody says ‘nether-regions.’”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I may have an uncontrollable radar sense that picks up all of my surroundings.”

“I would feel violated and offended, but that’s just fucking awesome.”

“ _Would you put those goddamn pants on_?”


	2. First Kiss

“Oh, god. Jesus christ that looks  _bad._ ” Clint’s hands hovered nervously over Matt’s rapidly bruising shoulder.

“It’s fine, really. It’s not broken, just dislocated. Listen, you’re going to have to push it back in.”

“No! no way. I could damage your nerve endings or snap your tendons or-”

“Clint, really, it’s fine.” Matt would have moved to comfort him, but the pain from his shoulder was coming in stabbing waves. “Just put your hands here,” he said as he guided Clint’s hands into position. “Ok, now I’m going to count to three. On three, I need you to push it in.”

“I really don’t think-”

“One…”

“I don’t think I can-”

“Two…”

“Matt, no. I can’t-”

“Three!”

Clint pushed as hard as he could. There was a sickening pop and Clint felt the bone shift beneath his hands. Matt cried out, his other hand flying to grasp at the shoulder.

“There, was that so bad?” he panted.

“Yes! God, I still could’ve fucked it up. Can you feel it alright? Use your hearing. Did anything break or snap in there? Is there internal bleeding-”

Matt sat up in a motion entirely too smooth for someone that had been repeatedly hit in the stomach with a baseball bat only an hour ago. His good arm slid through Clint’s hair. Their lips mashed together, a bit painfully as they’d both been hit in the face multiple times. Matt pulled back after a moment, hand still woven through Clint’s hair

“Shut up, please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against Clint’s. He felt Clint’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

“Oh. Ok,” Clint whispered back. Matt could hear his heart pounding. Clint leaned in again, catching Matt’s lips gently with his own.

Time seemed not just to stop, but to cease to exist. Everything irrelevant melted away. All Clint could feel was the softness of Matt’s lips, the feeling of his breath against Clint’s cheek. Matt could feel Clint’s heart beat, slowing down to something steady and strong, the slight stubble against his face, the faint taste of blood on his skin. 

They pulled apart for a second, then locked lips again. This time Matt let his tongue sweep over Clint’s lips, and Clint opened slightly to allow him to deepen the kiss. They sat like that for a long time, hands sliding gently across each other’s faces, fingers carefully flitting over the cuts and bruises.

Clint pulled back for a second, taking a moment to press his lips to Matt’s cheek, then his jaw, then his temple. Matt sighed with each kiss. Their lips found each other again, and this time they wrapped their arms around each other, still cautiously aware of their injuries.

For the first time in a long time, Matt relinquished his hold on his surroundings. He didn’t need to feel anything else but Clint’s lips against his own.


	3. The best excuse

Foggy had heard every excuse in the book for Matt’s lateness. He organised them by three eras There were the ones before he knew about Matt’s identity. Those were usually the lies (my apartment key fell off the hook and it took me three hours to find it, I bumped into a little girl and she lost her balloon so we had to hunt down the balloon guy and buy a new one, there was a woman.) There were the ones’s after the Foggy-in-the-dark ages, but before the Clint phase. Those were always honest. (I had to stop a mugging and I got stabbed so Claire had to stitch me up before I came here, I fell off a building, there was a woman.) And then there were the ones after Matt met Clint. Foggy wasn’t sure what to think of those.

“Wait, could you repeat that?”

“Clint tried put his underwear on both legs at a time.”

“…why?”

“Tony told him that Nick Fury could do it.”

“Ok, so let me get this straight,” Foggy scrubbed a hand over his face. “Iron Man told your boyfriend that the world’s most important intelligence agency director could put on his underwear two legs at a time?”

“Yes.”

“And he tried it?”

“And failed. Yes.”

“So that makes you late because…?”

“Because I was laughing my ass off,” Matt said with an entirely straight face.


End file.
